Chloe’s ballet dancer. Life in France.


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Bonjour Madame,” said Chloe, aged 6.

Bonjour Chloe,” I replied.

As usual she flapped a bit of paper and a pencil in my face.

“I need a ballet dancer!” she declared, but in French.

I sat at the kitchen counter and drew her a quick ballet dancer, complete with tutu and flowers in her hair.

“You can colour it yourself,” I told her as I handed it over in to her mittened paws.

Chloe held the picture and looked at it grimly.

“Don’t you like it?” I asked.

Non, pas vraiment,” she said with the honesty of the very young.  “I need one in a blue dress.”

“But you can colour the dress blue …?” I suggested.

She hesitated, torn between the pleasure of doing some colouring and not getting  it already in blue.

“Can I keep this?” she asked, flapping the picture in front of her face.

“Why yes, of course!” I exclaimed.

Tres bien,” she seemed satisfied. She folded the picture in to ther anorak pocket, looked up at me and smiled and said:

“Now can you do me one in a blue dress?”

Catherine Broughton is a novelist. Her books are available from most usual sources.

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Posted on 21/01/2014 by Catherine
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